


For Kenara!

by PhlamingFeonix



Category: Twilight Imperium Fourth Edition
Genre: Board Games, Emirates of Hacan, Inspirational Speeches, L1Z1X Mindnet, Science Fiction, Space Opera, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhlamingFeonix/pseuds/PhlamingFeonix
Summary: For the Hacan, this battle would be critical. It falls to their celebrated hero, Harrugh Gefhara to inspire the troops and secure a victory: For Kenara!





	For Kenara!

**Author's Note:**

> Well this was something different for me to write... and I quite enjoyed it - hope you do too.

It had started 13 years ago with the loss of the Zollar. One day en route to its destination stocked full of starflowers and Spehat, intoxicating gerr root and Tuuran gills, the next tragically lost in the Mahact region, all navigation equipment mysteriously malfunctioning and with nobody around to help. Then the L1Z1Z came, not to aid but to attack, and the last desperate words of the Hacan captain would have been lost to time and space if not for an emergency broadcast, picked up by sheer chance by a nearby Yssaril envoy. Today would not just be another battle, another piece of the puzzle in the quest to secure a Hacan representative on the imperial throne and ensure peace and prosperity for all. No, today would be an opportunity to fight back against the cruel, ruthless L1Z1X. To take from them what had been stolen from the Hacan. To settle a personal grudge.   
Yet the odds had never been more stacked against them. Harrugh knew the reports of the tens of thousands of L1Z1X soldiers (if that was the word to use, they were more like war robots) that awaited them. He would have to rely on every ounce of skill and courage in his fellow fighters if they were to have any chance of victory—perhaps the history between the two factions would play a deciding factor. After all, there was no greater motivator in war than passion and vengeance. Certainly, he would need no encouragement to fight this battle; his usual shot of Zohlian whiskey could wait until afterwards as a celebration drink. He had more than enough courage pumping through his arteries already.

Harrugh stood before his warriors, searching for the words that would express the pride that swelled within him. All of them stood ready to fight, eagerly awaiting one of his famed rallying speeches—the speeches (and corresponding victories) which had gotten him promoted to General faster than almost any other Hacan alive. From his humble beginnings as a breeder of the Tuuran beasts—a family business going back generations—he had risen through the ranks with his supreme tactical skill, fighting strength and superiority brought out by years of hard labour on the farm, and his ability to drive even the most placid of legions into a frenzy, hell-bent on winning. “Today we turn these invaders to ash and take back what is ours!” Harrugh paused, noting the murmurs of approval rippling through the ranks. It seemed it wouldn’t take much to get them riled up today, he noted to himself in appreciation. Seemingly everyone here already understood the importance of the battle to follow. The whispering gradually died down and his warriors watched Harrugh expectantly. “We must come together and fight as we have never fought before: to punish these heartless monsters who would threaten our borders; to protest against their totalitarian regime, which pushes back against the free trade we have been instrumental in developing, and which promises wealth and prosperity for all citizens of the galaxy; and most importantly of all, to ensure those lives lost on the Zollar were not in vain—we WILL avenge our brothers!” Every muscle in his body tensed, and he thrust his gyro-spear skyward. “For Kenara!” The roar in response from every soldier present resounded through soul and filled his heart with pride. They were going to win; he was sure of it.   
He turned away from his warriors and strode forwards to take his place at the head of the battle. Some would call it foolish, reckless even to place the general in charge at the very front and centre of the troops—exposed and an easy target for the enemies to focus on. But Harrugh didn’t agree with that. He was here to lead his men into battle—for many of them it would be to their deaths—and he was damned if their last memory of him would be one where he was hiding, afraid to fight and unwilling to die alongside his companions. The morale boost gained from his visibility to his own ranks far outweighed any risks from his visibility to the L1Z1X. From his vantage point on a short ledge of rock protruding from the sand dune, he could see them, gleaming in the harsh sunlight and shimmering like some conglomerate amoeba made of steel and viciousness. He turned once more to face his own army and his whiskers twitched in anticipation—it was time to finish this. Harrugh stood atop the dunes, looking down at the thousands of Hacan warriors mustered below. Gathering his strength, he let loose a mighty roar, the will of his people throughout the galaxy echoing forth from within. He raised his gyro-spear, a weapon specially manufactured for the Hacan army using some of the most advanced Jol-Nar techniques and forged from the sturdy metals found under the sands of Arretze and the Hacan troops copied his actions in solidarity. 

Harrugh leapt down from the ledge, gyro-spear blazing in the sunlight. In front, the L1Z1X began to take notice. Behind, his warriors stood at the ready. Win or lose, this would be the end. With a final almighty battle cry he launched into action. His legions of troops began to charge forwards, their paws flying over the ground. Though most of the time the Hacan walked on two legs, if needed they could move quicker on four with their uniforms or mouths to carry things for them. Indeed, this was often used as an intimidation tactic in their battles: enormous space-faring cats are even scarier when you’re staring directly into their amber eyes filled with hatred, their faces usually so calm and regal but now transformed into hunting machines with snarling, slavering maws quivering with malice. Particularly so if said cats can easily outrun you and will equally as likely stab you with a spear or chew your head off.

In the end, the battle wasn’t even that close. True both sides suffered heavy casualties, but the relentlessness and hunger of the Hacan (as well as the efficacy of their gyro-spears) meant the L1Z1X never really stood a chance against them. Harrugh himself had escaped with mostly light to moderate injuries—testament perhaps to his fury and strength on the battlefield, though the wound on his right side would certainly leave a scar. And although his fur was matted with blood (some of which was probably his) and his flanks were heaving from exertion and his throat was hoarse from roaring orders and there was still so much logistical work to organise and his heart was pained from all the bloodshed, brought upon them by the L1Z1X’s callousness, he knew the Hacan would continue to fight for justice and prosperity throughout the galaxy.   
Truth be told, Harrugh had always preferred quiet solitude after battles. A time to heal, mourn those who had fallen, and reflect own his race’s passion and tenacity. Nevertheless, as general, he was required to give a closing speech to the troops. “Comrades, the Hacan thank you all for your service today, for while the price may seem high, the future rewards from this system will be great, and perhaps more importantly, the Zollar has been avenged. Those foul creatures of metal who claim to be descended from the honourable Lazax against all the odds have been defeated and will no longer threaten this planet with their scourge. We have done the impossible. I am proud to call you my brothers. My equals. My betters.” Harrugh’s whiskers bristled with energy as he spoke. Though fleets of L1Z1X fighters, and carriers loaded with more infantry flew in nearby systems, Harrugh knew they would be licking their wounds after the loss, and it would be a while before they could think about attempting another invasion. The planet was safe, for now. Time to break into that whiskey, he thought to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, as always any comments/feedback greatly appreciated and I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
